


A Month of Tuesdays

by gwenweybourne



Series: Infinite Tuesdays [3]
Category: The Monkees (Band), The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dolenzsmith, Drama, Family Feels, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of sexy times, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Protective!Micky, Sexy Times, Vulnerable!Mike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-03 22:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21187100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwenweybourne/pseuds/gwenweybourne
Summary: Mike and Micky's relationship is deepening, but how much longer can they keep their secret from Davy and Peter? Mike finds himself in another dangerous situation.





	1. Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing this entire series out of order, so I spent tons of time on Part 4 before I'd even made a dent in Part 3! But the good news is that there probably won't be as big a gap for the final installment after this.
> 
> Oh, and here be smut. The boys are just ... SUPER INTO EACH OTHER. In my brain. All the time. It's a blessing and a curse. Here, have some. I really got other things I need to do today! ;-)

“Oh god, Mike!” Micky cried, clutching at Mike’s shoulders and burying his hands in his thick, dark hair. “Mike, yes, yes … please … more … harder …”

Mike’s face was buried in Micky’s neck and he groaned in response, rocking his hips, thrusting hard and deep into Micky’s tight ass while Micky nearly wailed with pleasure, wrapping his legs around Mike’s waist, rocking up to meet him as Mike found his sweet spot and the sensation made him dizzy and almost incoherent.

And so it went.

They’d been doing this for a while now, but the first time was on a Tuesday. Micky had officially quit the volleyball league and he spent the rest of his summer Tuesdays in bed with Mike. Learning each other’s bodies and exploring different ways they could bring each other pleasure without worrying about making too much noise. Exhausting themselves until Peter and Davy got home. They’d talked a few times about when they should disclose their evolved relationship to the other two Monkees. But it just always seemed to be too soon and it was easier to shove the idea aside and spend another glorious Tuesday wrapped up in their own little world.

It was Micky’s idea to have Mike penetrate him. Mike was scared of hurting him. Scared of not being any good at it. Just plain scared. But Micky had talked him around and they tried. It didn’t go all that well at first. When Micky finally managed to relax enough for Mike to enter him, it did hurt. It hurt a lot. And that freaked Mike out, even though Micky had done his best to pretend it didn’t hurt all that bad.

“This was a bad idea,” Mike babbled, pulling out after seeing tears of pain welling up in the corners of Micky’s eyes. “It’s hurting you. It’s wrong … it’s all wrong. Sex isn’t supposed to hurt. I’m turning you into some kind of deviant, Micky. You don’t want this. You don’t —”

Micky silenced him with a firm kiss and tugged Mike into an embrace. “Shhhhh, baby. Stop telling me what I want. You’re freaking out. Just breathe, okay? Deep breaths. I’m fine. I’m really fine. It hurts, but it’ll get better.”

“How do you know that?” Mike mumbled. “Maybe I’m just lousy at this.”

“It’s my first time, Mike!” Micky exclaimed, touched by his concern, but also frustrated. “It’s like … I’m losing my virginity again. It hurts for girls the first time, too. This isn’t deviant and you’re not doing anything to me or turning me into anything. We’re making love. I wanna make love with you. You want to do that for me, too, don’t you?”

Mike nodded. “More than anything, Mick.”

Micky kissed him gently. “Okay. Aren’t you the one always at us to keep practicing until we get it right? Even if we get blisters on our hands?”

“This ain’t about a couple of blisters, Micky. I’m … I know I’m supposed to be happy that I have a pretty big dick, but right now I wish it weren’t like that.”

Micky gave a gasp of mock horror. “How dare you say that about my dick? It’s perfect as it is.”

“Your dick? I said mine —”

“No, I heard you right,” interrupted Micky, giving a mischievous grin as he reached down and wrapped his fingers around Mike’s flagging erection. “Your dick is mine. It’s mine now. You understand? Mine, mine, mine.” He squeezed to emphasize his point.

Mike groaned and felt the blood leave his head as he grew hard again. “Okay, Micky. Oh god, do that again …”

Micky squeezed him again and then stroked him teasingly, reaching for the Vaseline and coating more on Mike’s hard-on. “Now just go slow, and don’t stop until I tell you to. Let me tell you how much pain is too much and what I can handle, okay?”

He still had to spend a lot of time reassuring Mike that he really wanted a sexual relationship. Micky wasn’t used to playing this role, but he didn’t totally dislike it. Because it meant that he could be there for Mike and not just always be a problem Mike had to solve. They still laughed and goofed off and riffed with each other. Just sometimes Mike would get himself all worked up and Micky would bring him back down to earth with a kiss or a touch or a soft word.

And so they’d tried again and it still hurt a lot, but Micky liked the feeling of Mike moving inside him. The closeness. The intensity. Most of all, he liked the way Mike’s face looked as he took his pleasure, gasping in utter disbelief at how hot and tight it was inside Micky. He’d stroked his hands down Mike’s smooth, strong back, feeling his muscles working as his thrusts became more graceful and confident. He looked up into Mike’s eyes and smiled. “You’re so beautiful, Mike. Right now … you’re just so beautiful …”

* * *

He could have come just from those words. It was already overwhelming to be inside Micky, but to have him look at Mike that way and say those words. Mike actually believed it. That Micky thought he was beautiful when he was making love.

Making love. He’d never done this before. He’d had sex, but he’d never made love. He’d never felt this much. He’d never been this hard before during penetration. He’d been pretty sure for a long time, but he knew now without a doubt that he was queer. Queer as anything. Girls had never turned him on like this. This was unbelievable. It was so good.

Too good. He didn’t think he could hold on for very long.

“Oh, god, Micky,” he groaned. “I can’t … it’s too good. I’m sorry … I —”

“It’s okay,” Micky said, pulling Mike down to kiss him. “Do it. Fuck me. Come inside me. I want it.”

And then Mike actually whimpered and buried his face in Micky’s curls as his hips worked hard and fast and then he was crying out and shuddering as he came harder than he ever had before, the pleasure burning white-hot behind his eyes.

Micky wrapped his arms around Mike and gasped as he felt Mike coming inside him. Feeling Mike’s body quaking with pleasure and knowing it was all because of him. And then Mike went limp and still and the sound of their labored breathing filled the room. And then Mike’s mouth was on his and Micky moaned softly, kissing him back, still feeling Mike pulsing softly inside him. And then Mike was pulling out and sliding down the length of Micky’s body and taking Micky into his mouth. Because he couldn’t bear to feel this good and know he hadn’t made Micky feel the same way.

Micky loved sex. It was something he’d started chasing after the moment puberty peeked around the corner at him. But he’d only managed to finally lose his virginity two years ago. And he’d been trying to make up for lost time ever since. But this … this was something else. He didn’t think it was possible to lose one’s virginity twice, but what he’d let Mike do today certainly seemed to count. He hadn’t counted on feeling this much. He’d never been intimate with someone he knew so well or cared about so much. The fact he was giving Mike things he’d never had before. And he was giving Micky so much in return. So concerned about him and mindful of his pleasure. Micky buried his hands in Mike’s beautiful hair as Mike groaned around his cock and Micky felt a few tears in the corners of his eyes again, but for entirely different reasons this time.

* * *

They’d gone on several “dates” together. Micky still used mental quote marks on the word because they weren’t like the kinds of dates he’d had with girls, but they still counted. They’d gone to the cinema to see _Fantastic Voyage_ together as Micky promised. On the surface it was no different than other times Micky and Mike had gone to the movies together, just the two of them. They didn’t dress any differently, they didn’t talk about anything out of the ordinary. When they went to the pictures together, either just the two of them, or the entire group, Mike usually bought the tickets for all of them since he was in charge of the Monkees’ meager finances. This time Micky bought the tickets and popcorn. It wasn’t all that different at all — except it was. It felt different. There was a charged energy between them the entire evening. They stole looks, their arms brushed sometimes as they walked down the street and it felt electric every single time. Micky had managed to hold Mike’s hand briefly for a few moments during the film when there was a lot of action on the screen and the entire audience was fully focused on that, but then Mike gently pulled away, whispering, “Not here, Mick.” And he was right, but Micky wanted to do all the things he would do with a girl on a movie date. Hold her hand. Slip an arm around her shoulders. Maybe cop a feel and try to make out a little. But he knew he couldn’t do any of that stuff. It was a little frustrating, but it certainly built up the tension in the evening.

Micky treated them to a Coke after the show and they sat across from one another, excitedly discussing the movie, their knees just barely touching under the table. And then Micky drove them back to the Pad and they paused for a moment after Micky parked the Monkeemobile.

Micky turned to Mike. “Here’s where I’d insist on walking you to your door and try to get myself invited in.”

Mike chuckled. “Well, considering you live here, that invitation isn’t really necessary.”

“But the kiss good night sure is.” It was dark and quiet outside. No neighbors about and no one who could really see what was happening inside the car. So Micky leaned over and kissed Mike. Mike tensed up a little bit, nervous about kissing anywhere outside of the privacy of their shared bedroom, but, like Micky, he’d felt the sexual tension crackling between the two of them all night and he couldn’t help but melt into Micky’s kiss, opening his mouth to accept Micky’s tongue as he licked into Mike’s mouth and Mike was instantly hard. They groped at each other, kissing deeply and passionately until they finally broke apart, panting.

Mike chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, what’re we doin’? People usually fool around in cars because they don’t got nowhere else private to go. We got a damn bedroom of our own in there. Let’s go.”

Micky grinned back. “Lucky us. But it is fun to make out in the car like other people.”

“We ain’t ‘other people,’ Mick.”

“Sure we are. We aren’t so special that we are the only people in the world being sneaky like this.”

Mike shrugged, then conceded that this was probably true. Nevertheless, he opened the car door and stepped out. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go to bed.”

“Mmm, bed.”

And they went inside and went to bed. Except Micky stripped naked and hopped into Mike’s bed, looking at him expectantly until Mike stripped down as well, revealing his impressive hard-on. He looked at Micky in his bed and again wondered if this was all an incredible dream he was eventually going to wake up from. He climbed into the bed and into Micky’s arms and they very quietly kissed and touched and moved together, trying to keep their sounds of pleasure dialed down so as not to disturb their sleeping housemates. They each found their release with the other and Mike cleaned them up a little before they fell asleep, wrapped up in one another and Mike reckoned it was the best date he’d ever had in his whole life.

They’d managed a few more little outings: going bowling, going out for a burger, even just throwing a ball around on the beach — anything that had them spending time together on their own. But they had to space them out carefully so as not to alienate Davy and Peter. They tried to find times when the other two Monkees were busy with dates of their own or completely disinterested in a particular film or activity. Frankly, Micky was finding it all a bit exhausting and was leaning more and more into the idea of just telling Davy and Peter already. He didn’t like keeping secrets from his friends, but every time he brought it up, he felt Mike tense in terror and he knew that Mike was still hung up on what happened to him in Dallas when his so-called “friends” found out that he was into guys. And who could blame him for being hung up on it? But Micky knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Davy and Peter weren’t like those awful people who’d hurt Mike. Peter literally couldn’t hurt a fly and Davy … he was sharp and tough, but he was a loyal friend with a huge heart and he’d accept them, even if he didn’t understand at first.

Micky tried to explain this to Mike, but he wasn’t having it, so Micky was resigned to just waiting it out. Either the right time would present itself or they’d eventually get found out. He tried not to think about that, but their Tuesday sojourns were getting pretty intense.

* * *

Pretty much everything they’d done together so far had started off as a fantasy in Mike’s mind. Everything from kissing Micky and touching him, to being inside him, sucking his cock … everything. And he couldn’t get enough. He couldn’t believe he used to get by on jerking off once a week. Twice if he was feeling really pent up. It was like Micky unleashed something in him and the more sex he had, the more he wanted. Fortunately, Micky seemed to be the same way and Mike was having him, in some way, shape, or form, every single day. Sometimes twice … a few times Mike had woken up moaning, realizing that his cock was deep in Micky’s mouth. Such lovely way to start his day, burying his hands in those soft, wild curls and thrusting gently into that sucking mouth. Watching as Micky showed off his new skill in relaxing his throat muscles to take every inch of Mike into his mouth and throat. He was so good … looking up at Mike with such an innocent look in his almond-shaped brown eyes. Almost as if he’d just accidentally found himself with a mouthful of hard cock. _Whoops! Now, how on earth did_ that _happen?_ And then he’d start sucking again, in earnest, until Mike was moaning and leaking into his mouth and Micky lapped it up, swiping his clever tongue over and around the slit. And then sucking and stroking him until Mike shuddered and came into his hungry mouth. He swallowed everything Mike gave him and licked him clean. Micky was a sensualist at heart. He loved to make music, he loved to make love, he loved to sleep, and he loved to eat. And, of course, he loved Tuesdays, where Mike had Micky as many times as they could physically manage in those beautiful hours they had alone together.

* * *

And one day, Micky told Mike about a fantasy he’d had and wanted to play out. Micky had been a little nervous, blushing, because part of it required him to talk about that time when he had been eavesdropping on Mike while he masturbated. But he asked Mike to get himself started, half-dressed as he had normally done. “I’ll do the rest, baby. I … it’s something I eventually realized I wanted to do after watching you.” And then Micky left the room.

Mike was intrigued and a tiny bit self-conscious. It had been one thing to have a go at himself while thinking he was alone and another to know for certain he was being watched. But he reminded himself that the reason he used to do this was to cope with not being able to have Micky. And now he had Micky … and was about to have him again. That notion alone was enough to get him hard and able to focus on stroking himself in a way that Micky hopefully still found arousing.

And then he heard Micky return and he kept touching himself as Micky wordlessly took all of his clothes off, then reached for the pot of Vaseline on the bedside table. He smiled, scooping some of the jelly into his hand and then he was replacing Mike’s hand on his cock with his own, stroking him, slicking him. Mike’s breathing quickened. This was fantasy enough for him … how many times he’d pictured Micky touching him just like this. But then Micky climbed up on the bed and straddled Mike’s hips.

Mike watched, in awe, as Micky slowly, slowly lowered himself onto Mike’s cock. He groaned softly as he was impaled, biting his lower lip and making a soft, satisfied sound as he took Mike’s hard length fully inside him and he sat flush in Mike’s lap, kneeling on either side of his bony hips. Mike stared at him, astounded, and reached for him without even thinking about it, but Micky made a soft, “uh-uh-uh” sound. “You can touch me all you like a little later, but right now, you just watch. Watch me get off on your cock. Watch me touch myself. Hold on to the bedframe and don’t let go until I’ve come.”

Mike smiled a little. Micky was kind of sexy when he was being a little bossy. He reached over his head and wrapped his hands around the metal bars of the bedframe, groaning as Micky rolled his hips a little and then started to rock in a slow rhythm, working Mike’s cock in and out, slowly, maddeningly. Micky moaned and ran his hands over his lean, tight body, rubbing his nipples until they hardened into buds. “Feels so good, Mike,” he moaned. “Do I look good riding your big dick?”

“Micky, you look so damn good that I’d throw you down and fuck you if I weren’t already fucking you.”

Micky grinned, licking his lips suggestively. “You can do that later. But right now, look how hard you’re making me.” He arched his back, crying out softly as he found out just the right angle for Mike’s cock to hit his pleasure center, his hard-on bobbing as Micky moved, rocking harder in Mike’s lap, developing a slow, deep rhythm.

Mike groaned, gripping the bedframe so hard his knuckles were turning white. He wanted nothing more than to put his hands on Micky, but he was so beautiful this way, too. Looking at Mike with such innocence, which seemed almost blasphemous as he had a giant cock up his tight little ass. Micky was like living, breathing pornography. But the most beautiful kind Mike had ever seen, and it was all for him.

“I’m so hard, Mike. Your cock makes me feel so good,” Micky said softly. “I’m going to touch myself. I’m going to make you come in my ass and then I’m going to come all over your chest. When I saw you half-naked like this that first time … that was the first thought I had and it freaked me out. I wanted to make you come. And then I wanted to come all over your bare chest. You have no idea how sexy you are.”

“Do it,” Mike groaned, unable to even process the compliment, rocking his hips up to hit Micky harder and deeper. “Please do it. I want to see you … oh, Micky …”

Micky sat out a satisfied cry as Mike hit him just right. “Oh god, yeah,” he gasped, beginning to rock harder, reaching down to fist his cock, beginning to stroke himself.

“Micky,” Mike breathed helplessly. For all his fevered fantasies about him and Micky together, this was beyond the pale. He never would have indulged himself so far as to imagine sweet, angel-faced Micky riding his cock and making all manner of filthy sounds and running commentary, all while touching himself without a hint of shame or self-consciousness.

“How …” he gasped, then licked dry lips, “how are you even real. How did I get so lucky … Micky …”

“I’m the lucky one,” Micky whimpered, his back arching as another wave of pleasure washed over him. “It’s me, it’s me, it’s me …”

And then Micky started riding Mike in earnest, working him hard and fast while stroking his erection and all Mike could do was watch and hold on for dear life. The bedsprings creaked and moaned as Micky’s slender thighs strained and Mike’s hips rocked, working his cock deep and hard as Micky rose and fell.

“Oh, fuck …” Mike moaned. “Oh, Micky … I’m close … please … I’m gonna come …”

“Not yet,” Micky gasped, still rocking as he pumped his cock harder. “Just hold on, baby … hold on … I’m almost there … oh god … yes …”

Mike gritted his teeth, clutching the metal posts on the bedframe so hard he was surprised that he wasn’t bending them in half like Superman.

“Miiiicky,” he keened. “Micky, _please_ …”

“Oh god,” Micky gasped. “Oh god … Mike … MIKE!” And then Micky cried out sharply and stiffened, his back arching as his orgasm hit. He kept stroking his cock, leaning forward as he came all over Mike’s bare chest and stomach in great spurts. His muscles clutched hard around Mike’s cock, sending him over the edge and he let out a strangled cry and thrust up hard into Micky, coming inside of him.

“Oh god, yeah,” Micky moaned, feeling Mike explode inside him as he milked the last out of his cock. “Come inside me … fill me up, baby …”

Filthy boy. Where had he learned talk like that? But Mike couldn’t deny it sounded hot and he groaned even deeper as his orgasm spread across every nerve ending and his hips continued to roll up as his cock continued to pulse inside Micky.

Finally, Micky stilled, shaking, and Mike pried his hands off the metal bars, feeling his fingers cramping. Micky let Mike’s softening cock slip out of him and he collapsed heavily next to Mike, making the bedsprings scream in protest.

“Holy Toledo,” Mike gasped, chest heaving.

“My legs feel like Jell-O,” Micky whimpered.

Mike petted Micky’s curls, then turned his head. “Gimme a kiss, jelly-legs. I don’t think I love this hands-off policy.”

Micky leaned up and kissed Mike clumsily on the mouth. “It was pretty hot, though, right?” He looked up at Mike from under his lashes. “Did I look sexy? I wanted to look really sexy for you.”

Mike chuckled and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Micky, you always look sexy to me. But that just now … that should be illegal. How good you looked. I’m havin’ you again just as soon as I can get it back up. And hands ON this time.”

“Promise?” Micky said mischievously.

“Boy, you are pure trouble, y’know that? Dunno just what I’m gonna do with you.”

“I can think of so many things.”

“Mmmm, I bet you can,” Mike said softly, slipping an arm around Micky, “I just bet you can … you miracle of a thing … where on earth did you come from?”

“Burbank,” Micky said, deadpan.

“Very funny.”

“Not really. Burbank is pretty boring.” Micky was then quiet for a little while as he nuzzled into Mike’s neck, his hand playing lightly over Mike’s chest, stroking the soft mats of hair and tracing the shape of his clavicle. “It’s so strange …” he murmured.

“What’s that?” Mike glanced down and took advantage of this rare moment when Micky was still. When Mike could really get a look at his face when it wasn’t contorting in a million expressions per second. He had one of the most interesting faces Mike had ever seen. And he found it beautiful for that reason. He resisted the urge to trace the shape of Micky’s nose and cheekbones and his lovely mouth with his fingertips.

“When … they tell you … I mean, well, it’s not like they ever really tell you, y’know, but when you’re a kid … when you’re young, there’s just stuff you learn. You just know it. Y’know?”

“You’re gonna have to gimme a hint on this one, Mick …”

“Well, what I mean, is I don’t remember exactly _when_ I learned that boys were supposed to be with girls and girls were supposed to be with boys and that’s just the way it was, but it was something we all knew. And that it was the only way. That boys being with boys … in a romantic way. Was wrong.”

“Mmm-hmm …” Mike said slowly, not quite sure where Micky was going, but it was making him slightly nervous.

Micky seemed to feel Mike tense and looked up at him. “No, I’m just … it’s coming out all wrong, but what I mean to say is … you learn that being with guys is wrong and that … getting a dick up your ass is one of the worst things that can possibly happen to you, and it was something to be avoided at all costs. Not to let queers anywhere near you because they might try it on with you. Don’t land in jail because someone will try to fuck your ass and that’s the worst thing that can happen to you in prison. Not the fact that you’re in _prison_! That should be the worst thing about being in prison!” Micky paused and looked down again. “And they’re wrong. How can something that feels so good be so wrong? I refuse to accept that. There’s no basis for it. It was all a lie. It was all a lie, Mike. Don’t you see?”

“I’m not sure, Mick … you’re getting a little cosmic for my pea brain …”

“Stop,” Micky said softly. “I don’t like it when you say stuff like that about yourself. You’re so smart, Mike. And strong. And brave. And kind. You’re my favorite person.”

“Who, me?” Mike scoffed, chuckling. “You need to meet more people, pal.”

“Shaddap,” Micky said affectionately, leaning up to kiss Mike softly. “When you do it to me, it’s the best. And I know that can’t be wrong.”

“I wanna … know what it’s like, too,” Mike said softly after a beat.

Micky blinked. “You mean it? Right now?”

“… yeah. Yeah, I think right now. Will you …?”

Micky nodded, excited but also a little nervous. “I want to, Mike. I really want to. I’ll … be real gentle, okay? Like you were with me. It’ll be okay.”

“I know. I trust you, Micky. I trust you more ’n’ anyone.”

And it was okay. It was more than okay as Mike let Micky touch him and finger him very gently and slowly. Building up slowly, slowly, and then Micky was slicking up his cock and Mike was afraid, but only a little. This was something else he’d fantasized about for longer than he’d care to admit to himself, let alone anyone else. Something he’d been afraid to even desire, let alone pursue. But then Micky pressed inside of him and it hurt and it burned, but also it was everything he’d ever hoped for.

“Are you okay?” Micky gasped, looking down at him, concerned.

And Mike hauled Micky down for a long kiss, murmuring against his mouth, “Make love to me.”

Micky let out a sound that was partway between a happy chuckle and a joyful whimper and began to move, feeling Mike’s arms and legs wrap around him as he sank into the tightest heat he’d ever experienced and began to thrust slowly.

They kissed. They gazed into each other’s eyes. They were so caught up in each other that they didn’t notice the sky darkening outside. Didn’t pay attention when the thunder cracked and the rain began to fall. In fact, the noise of the storm made them feel even more uninhibited in their sounds of pleasure. They were too far gone to think about what rain on a Tuesday meant for their busking bandmate Peter.

* * *

Peter finally made it back to the Pad, soaking wet from the storm. Ugh, that had come out of nowhere and he hadn’t been prepared at all. He put down his dripping guitar case and immediately moved into his bedroom to change clothes.

He was halfway through struggling into a dry shirt when he heard the noise above the hard pound of the rain and occasional boom of thunder. A grating, squeaking sound. And then voices. Peter furrowed his brow and quickly finished dressing, stepping back out into the living room area, where the noise was much louder. He looked up at the staircase to the second floor.

Peter knew he wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he wasn’t a complete moron and he picked up his fair share of chicks. The kind who didn’t want to talk too much and just wanted to have a good time because it was known that Peter had a tight body and a big dick and no real hang-ups about anything. He treated people kindly. Peter liked to have a good time. And the people upstairs were having a _very good time_. But who … Micky or Mike?

“Micky … oh god, Micky … please … more … harder …”

“You feel so good. So tight … holy shit … oh, Mike …!”

Peter blinked. The door was ajar and he caught a glimpse of two naked bodies. Micky on top of Mike, hips thrusting as Mike rocked beneath him, his long legs wrapped around Micky’s slender waist. Peter gulped and looked away quickly, raising a hand to his mouth in utter shock. He turned around in a complete 360, unsure of where to go or what to do. He couldn’t stay in the Pad and listen to this. It was … private. And weird. But it was pouring rain outside. He glanced over at the coat rack and got an idea.


	2. Stormfall

Clad only in his white boxer shorts, Mike whistled to himself as he descended the stairs and headed for the kitchen to get a glass of water for himself and his lover. He’d just lost his virginity to Micky. He was feeling a little sore inside, but awfully happy. It was only then that he really acknowledged that it was thunder-storming outside.

“Huh,” he murmured to himself. “Imagine that.” Rain was an oddity in both Texas and California, so it was noteworthy when there was a significant amount of it. And then his peripheral vision caught a flash of yellow.

Mike put down his water glass and peered out onto the sundeck.

“What in tarnation …” he muttered. “Peter?”

Peter was sitting outside on the sundeck, wearing a bright yellow rain slicker and matching hat. Reading an increasingly soggy-looking comic book under an umbrella as the rain blew around him.

Mike completely forgot he was just in his underwear and that Micky was naked in his bed upstairs because they’d been making love all day. All he saw was his friend sitting outside in the middle of a thunderstorm as lightning hit the ocean in sheets. He lurched for the door to the sundeck and wrenched it open. “Peter! What the heck are you doin’ sittin’ out here in the middle of a storm? Are you outta your mind? Get in here before you catch yer death, or worse, get struck by lightning. For the love of … Pete!”

Startled, Peter looked up at Mike. “Oh! But, Mike, I —”

“But nothin’, man! I said get in here! _Now!_”

Peter obeyed quickly, closing the umbrella and coming back inside, the rain puddling at his feet as it streamed off the umbrella and slicker. Mike slammed the door behind him. “Seriously, Peter, what were you doin’ out there? It’s dangerous — there’s lightning and —”

“I wanted to give you and Micky some privacy,” Peter explained. “I didn’t know where else to go. I tried the bathroom, but I could hear you there, too.”

Mike went silent, looking at Peter in shock. And then he glanced down at himself, realizing how he was nearly naked. His chest still sticky from Micky’s ejaculation earlier. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “Oh my god …”

And then he heard Micky’s voice. “Uh … Mike?”

Stricken, Mike looked up at the second floor of the Pad to see Micky standing at the top of the stairs, fully dressed. He tossed down Mike’s shirt and pants. “Cat’s outta the bag, so to speak. You okay, Peter? That must have been a little weird for you. We didn’t notice the storm roll in. We were, uh … distracted.” Micky slowly came downstairs, appearing much calmer than Mike felt inside. Mike quickly started pulling his clothes on.

“I guess maybe we need to have a little chat. We should have done it a while ago.”

Peter looked back and forth at the two of them, making no move to take his rain slicker off. “Am … am I in trouble, guys?”

Micky chuckled affectionately. “Aw, Pete. Of course not. Take off your rain stuff and sit down, okay?”

Reassured, Peter smiled and nodded, heading over to the coatrack to divest himself of the wet garments. Micky looked over at Mike, who had gone white as a sheet as he struggled into his clothes.

“Baby, it’s okay,” he said softly. “It’s Peter. He loves you. He loves everyone. We have to tell him. And then we have to tell Davy because we can’t leave him out. Okay? It’s time.” He tried to hold Mike’s hands in reassurance, but Mike flinched away from his touch, looking blankly over at Peter, who was taking a seat on the sofa.

Micky didn’t try to touch him again, but caught his gaze and made Mike focus on him. “It’s going to be fine,” he said quietly. “This isn’t Dallas. It’s me. It’s us. It’s them. It’s not like it was there.”

Mike nodded, but still looked terrified. Micky realized there probably never would have been a good time to reveal their relationship to the other two Monkees, so it might as well be now. Except they’d have to do it twice since Davy wasn’t there. But Davy would need more convincing and reassurance … and probably time to accept it.

And Micky was going to have to take the lead because Mike was quickly shutting down.

Micky sat down opposite Peter and smiled. “Pete … I bet you figured out what Mike and I were up to upstairs.”

Peter nodded his head quickly. “You were … having S-E-X,” he whispered.

“Yeah, we were. We were making love. And it wasn’t the first time. Mike and I … we really dig each other. Like … a lot. And we started … being together. And we’re kinda going together. But it doesn’t mean anything has changed for you or Davy or for the band. We wanna keep living here with you guys and hope you want to keep living with us, too, even if we’re together, like a couple.”

Mike was silent, picking at a callus on his hand.

“Is that why you two were always going to the movies on your own and doing other stuff, too?” asked Peter, smiling. “Davy and I were starting to get a little bummed out about that, but that makes sense now. And why wouldn’t I want to keep living here? You guys are my best friends. If you wanna be together … it’s groovy with me.”

“And it’s just that easy?” said Mike sharply, looking suspiciously at Peter. “That two of your guy buddies decided to start screwing each other? You’re totally okay with that?”

Peter shrugged. “What you two do in private isn’t really my business. I think if people want to be together, then they should be together … no matter what.” He looked placidly at Mike and smiled and Mike, not for the first time, wondered what it was like to be Peter. To see the world from his point of view. Everything so clear-cut and simple.

“That’s really groovy to hear, Pete,” said Micky, smiling warmly. “You’re a good friend. I’m sorry we kept a secret from you and Davy. We just wanted to make sure it was … it was getting more serious.” He tried to hold Mike’s hand, but Mike flinched again, and Micky realized he was pushing too hard. Mike was still in shock over how Peter found out and Peter’s kind acceptance of them as a couple wasn’t going to sink in until much later.

“I gotta … I gotta do somethin’ I forgot about,” he muttered, standing up, shoving his feet into a pair of moccasins, and grabbing the keys to the Monkeemobile.

“Like … maybe go pick up Davy because it’s raining cats and dogs out there and he’ll probably be knocking off work early because of the rain? Not many people booking beach rides in the middle of a thunderstorm,” Micky said pointedly.

Mike glared at him for a moment, then his expression softened when he realized Micky was right. “Yeah … that. I gotta do that,” he muttered.

“Great!” Micky said brightly. “Don’t worry about talking to him yet … unless you want to.”

“Oh, hell, naw,” Mike said, shaking his head and grabbing Peter’s slicker from the coatrack.

“Hey, Mike?”

Mike sighed and turned to face his lover. “Yeah?”

“Be careful driving out there, okay? It’s pretty crazy. I kinda wish you weren’t going out at all, but I’m worried about Davy.”

“I’ll … be careful, okay?” Mike managed a half smile. “Don’t worry.”

The door had barely shut behind Mike when the phone rang. Micky turned around, lifted a wooden panel in the table and a hand emerged and offered him the receiver.

Micky took the phone from the disembodied hand. “Thanks!” The hand flashed him the peace sign. Micky lifted the receiver to his ear. “Hello? Oh, Davy! I’m so glad you haven’t tried to leave yet. Yeah … yeah … Mike’s just left in the Monkeemobile to come get you, so hang tight, okay? Groovy. Yeah, see you soon. Bye.” Micky passed the phone back to the hand in the table and paused for a second to examine its fingernails. “Tsk, babe, you are in sore need of a manicure. Look at those cuticles!”

Having put down the receiver, the hand flipped Micky the bird and slammed the cupboard shut. “Jeez, so touchy!” Micky huffed.

“He should really take more pride in his appearance,” Peter concurred.

Micky looked at Peter again and smiled softly. “You really okay, Pete? With me and Mike? You got any questions?”

Peter paused for a moment, then looked at Micky. “You guys really dig each other, huh?”

Micky nodded. “Yeah. It was kind of unexpected, but it’s been really good.”

Peter raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Sure sounded like it’s been really good.”

Micky laughed, scandalized. “Peter Tork!” he exclaimed, tossing a throw pillow at Peter’s head.

Peter giggled and deflected the pillow. “It’s cool, man, it’s cool! It’s not really my bag, but I’m all for everyone getting into the love.”

“Don’t knock it ’til you try it!” Micky giggled.

“Is that an offer?” Peter waggled his eyebrows again.

“Oh, stop,” Micky snorted with a grin.

Peter shook his head and headed for the kitchen. “It’s wild and woolly out there. I’m gonna see if we have any soup or something like that. Mike and Davy will probably need it when they get home.”

“That’s a good idea, man,” Micky said, standing up and walking to the bank of windows lining the back of the Pad. “I hope Mike’s driving slow.”

* * *

Mike turned up the windshield wipers as fast as they would go and squinted out to the road. He could only see a few feet ahead of him and the rain seemed to be coming down harder. He considered pulling over for a little while, but there was nowhere safe on this stretch of road.

Suddenly there was a soft _poof_ of black smoke.

“Oh, no,” Mike groaned.

“I told you to enjoy it while it lasssssts,” demon-Mike hissed, sitting on the dashboard and inspecting his black nails. “This is how it endssssss. Micky, the band, everything.”

“That’s … that’s not true!” Mike protested, gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Pete’s cool and Micky thinks it’s a good idea that the guys know. So at least we don’t have to be so secretive in our damn home.”

Demon-Mike let out a peal of ugly, cackling laughter. “That’s adorable. That you think that’s what’ssssss going to happen.”

“Yeah, that’s what’s gonna happen, fella!” Angel-Mike was yelling before he even fully materialized.

“Hey, guys, look, I need to focus on the road a whole bunch right now,” said Mike. “Ain’t really a good time …”

“Are you ssssstill here?” demon-Mike hissed. “You ussssseless little ssssseraphim.”

“You part ssssssnake or ssssssomethin’, man?” angel-Mike mocked. “This affectation is getting to be a bit much. Now buzz off and let the boy get to the stables in one piece.”

The angel looked a little less grubby and stronger every time Mike saw him now. His halo appeared to have been repaired and he seemed to have regrown a lot of feathers in his wings.

“Don’t give me orderssss,” the demon snarled.

“I’ll give you whatever I feel like givin’ you, _bud_!” Angel-Mike rolled up his sleeves, and then flung himself at the demon and the two began to wrestle.

“What the heck! Guys, quit it!” Mike shook his head, unable to focus with the turmoil he was feeling with the two extremes at battle. Suddenly, the car skidded, hydroplaned, and Mike gasped as he lost control and spun off the road …


	3. The Rescue Mission

The phone rang again and Micky gingerly lifted the table panel and this time the hand all but threw the receiver at him. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry!” he yelled, before grabbing the receiver. “Hello?”

“Micky? It’s Davy.”

“Davy? I figured you’d be on your way back with Mike by now. It’s been forty-five minutes!”

“Yeah, me, too, mate. He ain’t showed up yet. I wondered if he’d had to turn back because of the weather. It’s real bad out here, man.”

Micky felt a stab of worry followed by an adrenaline rush. “No … no, no word from him. He hasn’t come back. Oh, god, Davy, you don’t think …”

“Oh, Micky …” Davy’s silence confirmed Micky’s fear.

“I’m coming … I’ll go get Nyles to drive me —”

“Micky,” Davy interrupted.

“Okay, okay, sorry, I will get Nyles to loan me his car because he has no business driving anytime anywhere ever.”

“I hope he’s okay, Mick.”

“Yeah, yeah … god, me, too. Bye, Davy.” Micky passed the receiver back to the hand, which graciously accepted the offering this time and waved with a finger.

“Peter!” Micky hollered. “I have to go find Mike! Would you grab some blankets and towels? I’m running to talk to Nyles! I’ll be right back!”

“Okay, Micky!” said Peter worriedly. “Where’s Mike?”

“That’s what I need to find out,” Micky said grimly, grabbing a jacket and running out into the rain.

* * *

Micky splashed down the street and ran up to the porch of the house two doors down. He opened the door because Nyles could never be bothered to lock it. He didn’t really have much worth stealing anyway, but he did have a car.

“Nyles!” Micky exclaimed, out of breath.

Nyles ambled into the living room stirring something in a mixing bowl and spied Micky dripping in the doorway. “Oh, hey, man! Heeeeey, Micky, man! Righteous! I was just making some … brownies. Come and —”

“I need your car, Nyles. Please tell me it’s running and has gas in it. Please — I think Mike’s in trouble and I have to go find him. He took the Monkeemobile with him and I need wheels!”

Nyles squinted at Micky through reddened eyes. “Aww, wow, man. That’s a real drag. Whoah. You want me to drive you, man? You’re like … upset.”

“No, no, that’s really okay,” Micky said. “Just the keys, man. It would mean a lot. I’ll bring it right back, I promise.”

“Yeah, baby, yeah, it’s cool, man, just hang on,” Nyles, seeming to move in slow motion, set down the mixing bowl and began to pat down his pockets. “Now where’d I put ’em … hang on, baby. I saw ’em just the other week.”

Micky bounced on the balls of his feet, letting out an anxious whine.

Nyles started pawing through piles of papers on the coffee table. “Let’s see now … it was a Tuesday … naw … Sunday … it was a real groovy day, man … I know I saw ’em.”

Micky rubbed a hand over his face, groaning.

Devil-Micky popped up on his shoulder. “This guy is a real piece of work, daddy-o.”

“I know,” Micky hissed. “But I don’t have a lot of choices right now.”

“What’s that, Mick?” Nyles asked looking up.

“Nothin’, man,” said Micky. “Just talkin’ to myself.”

Devil-Micky lit a cigarette and thought for a moment. “Well, if I were this slow boat to China, I think I might leave my keys the last place I used ’em, you dig?”

Micky froze for a moment, then gasped. “Yes!” He ran out the door and over to Nyles’s car. He tried the door and it opened. The keys were in the ignition. “Oh, thank god,” he groaned. He ran back into the house long enough to yell, “KeysareintheignitionmanIgottagothanks!”

Nyles looked up. “Huh?”

But Micky was already gone.

Nyles stood up and went back to pick up his mixing bowl. “Such a weird cat, man. Weird guy … talks too fast … yeah …” he shuffled back into the kitchen and in several minutes had forgotten that Micky had even been there.

* * *

Micky had driven Davy to work a few times when his carpool fell through and he knew the way. He’d quickly stopped back at the Pad to get the towels and blankets from Peter and instructing him to stay by the phone before he jumped back in the car and tore off.

But now he forced himself to drive slowly and carefully, though his heart was racing and he kept picturing Mike in a twisted wreck on the side of the road. “Please let me find him, please let him be okay,” he repeated over and over like a mantra.

Angel-Micky popped up and sat on Micky’s shoulder. “Eyes on the road, dear. Won’t do him any good if you get into an accident, too.”

“I know, I know!” snapped Micky.

Angel-Micky cast a warm ball of light and suddenly the visibility on the road increased a great deal and Micky let out a sigh of relief without realizing it or really noticing what brought the change about. He kept his eyes peeled not only on the road, but on each side and into the ditches and then he caught a flash of light and then a hint of yellow through the rain. A tall, lone figure huddled by the side of the road, clothed in a yellow rain slicker, bathed in the soft red glow of the taillights of a car that was stuck in the ditch at a forty-five degree angle.

Micky pulled over anxiously, parked, and jumped out of the car, running around to the side. “Mike!” he called. “Mike, is that you? Oh god, Mike …”

“Y-y-yeah, it’s me, Micky …” the yellow-clad figured stammered, chattering with cold.

Mick flung his arms around Mike, not caring that the slicker was soaking wet. Mike hugged him back, shivering. “I’m okay, Micky … I’m okay … I just … I think I was goin’ too fast and I skidded out …”

Wordlessly, Micky took Mike’s hand and hauled him back to Nyles’s car, opened the back door and pull them both into the backseat, out of the rain. He gasped when he saw a trickle of blood running down the side of Mike’s face. “Mike, you’re bleeding!”

“It’s okay, Micky,” Mike repeated. “Just had a bit of a knock on the ol’ steering wheel when I went into the ditch. It don’t hurt much, but I might have a bit of a lump. I’m all right.”

“You idiot,” Micky growled, tugging at Mike’s soaking rain slicker, wrestling him out of it and then grabbing one of the warm blankets and wrapping it around Mike’s body. He took a towel and gently wiped Mike’s wet face and hair, carefully examining the cut and rising lump on the left side of his forehead. It looked very shallow and not too serious. “Why didn’t you stay in the car where it was dry, at least?”

“Well, ain’t no one gonna find me if I did that! And the Monkeemobile, as you may have noticed, is kinda ass-up in the air … how didja find me?”

“Davy called and wondered why you hadn’t shown up yet,” Micky said, voice trembling as his initial fear began to abate and then his emotions began to surface. “Jesus, Mike, I was so worried … so scared …” He threw his arms around the blanket-wrapped Texan and kissed his cold, clammy cheek. Holding him as much for his own comfort as he was to comfort and warm Mike.

Mike melted into the embrace, too relieved to even worry about the display of affection. He’d been starting to get a little scared by the fact that barely anyone had driven by in the near hour since his accident, and those cars that had passed hadn’t stopped or even slowed down, and he hadn’t been sure of what he was going to do. It was too dangerous to walk on that road even if the traffic was light and the weather showed no signs of letting up.

He hadn’t been aware, but angel-Mike, ashamed by his outburst in the car, had hovered not too far off. Not alerting Mike to his presence but watching over him until he saw angel-Micky’s light coming from the car and he had cast his light back to signal to his angel compatriot.

“Don’t … don’t _do_ that!” Micky exclaimed, cuddling Mike close.

“Well, jeez, it ain’t like I … I mean … I didn’t … okay … okay, Micky. I won’t do that again. Promise,” Mike said softly, leaning into Micky’s embrace, breathing in his scent and just relieved to be dry and safe with his boy.

After a few minutes, Micky pulled back and looked at Mike, gently pushing his wet hair off his forehead and leaning in to kiss him tenderly. Mike kissed him back and looked wordlessly at Micky. Micky managed a half-smile, then stroked his thumb over Mike’s cheek. “C’mon, let’s go get Davy and get home. We’ll call for a tow truck back at the Pad. The Monkeemobile isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.”

“I’m sorry, Micky,” Mike said softly. “It’s gonna cost us almost all we got.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay, baby,” Micky said. “Now, you just stay back there, okay? Just … stay.” He opened the opposite door and re-entered the car on the drivers’ side.

“Like my chauffeur, huh?” Mike chuckled softly.

“Smart-ass,” Micky said, but he smiled.

* * *

At the stables, Micky left Mike in the car and went in to get Davy. Before they left, Davy called Peter at the Pad to reassure him that Micky had found Mike and everyone was okay. Davy offered to sit in the back seat and keep an eye on Mike while they drove home. Fortunately the worst of the rain seemed to have passed, but the roads were still slick and they needed to be careful.

“I’m all right,” Mike protested when Davy slipped into the backseat next to him.

“Yeah, and the Monkeemobile is in a ditch and you’re growing a goose egg on your face. You’re just tickety-boo,” Davy said sarcastically.

“If you recall, I went out in this inclement weather to pick you up from work, buddy!”

“I did not ask you to drive like a maniac! What happened, Mike?”

“It’s just terrible weather,” said Micky, trying to ease Davy off Mike’s back. “It’s fine, Davy, I —”

“Me ’n’ Micky are kind of a … couple!” Mike blurted out, then burrowed slightly down into his blanket like a turtle retreating into its shell.

Micky’s eyes went wide and he gripped the steering wheel a little more tightly.

Davy stared at Mike and caught Micky’s reaction in the rear-view mirror. “… wait … wot’s that now?”

“Peter walked in on us today … we were screwin’ in bed. And we had to tell him,” Mike voice was slightly muffled by the blanket. “And he was real cool about it, but I was freaked out and then I got behind the wheel and I wasn’t payin’ attention to the road. It’s all my fault …”

“Wait … _what_?” Davy asked again. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Yeah, why now, Mike?” Micky said, slightly annoyed. “I thought we said we’d wait until we got home.”

“I can’t wait till then!” Mike snapped. “I just … want it out there. I mean … it’s a secret, Davy. You can’t tell anyone else. It just stays in the Pad, okay? I mean it. But … we all live together and you’re right, Mick, it ain’t fair to keep a secret like that from our bandmates. So … there it is. Now y’all know. Micky and I are … together.”

“A couple …” Davy murmured, still stuck on the first piece of information. “You and … Micky? Blimey! This true, Micky? You said Mike got a knock on the head ..."

"Hey, I ain't delirious or nothin'!" Mike retorted.

"No, it's true, Davy," said Micky. "But still ... I think we should drop in and see Maxine on our way home."

"Smashing idea."

"Oh, bother."

* * *

Maxine Perkins was a Monkees fan. She'd been very supportive of the band from the get-go and always tried to get word out and bring friends to dance at their gigs as a way of drawing more people onto the floor. The more people who danced, the better it looked for the band. Bands who drew dancing crowds tend to book better gigs because people who had a good time dancing tended to tell more people about the club and the band. Maxine was a fan who had become a friend ... but even more important — she was a student nurse. The band promised her unlimited guest list privileges for their gigs if, in return, they could come to her for minor medical issues.

Maxine had been alarmed at first. "But ... I'm still studying! I won't be a proper RN for a long time yet. I can't give you the same advice as a real nurse or doctor could! It wouldn’t be right …"

"Aw, jeez, Maxine, we ain't sayin’ we'll ask you to set broken legs or stitch us back together," Mike had argued. "But, say, for like, little things. You may not believe it, but a lot of real weird stuff happens to us! And sometimes we get a little banged up. Would be nice if we could maybe ask your opinion before trying to scrape together the bread to see the doctor or go to the hospital."

"But if you tell us that we definitely need to see a real doctor or go to the hospital, we promise we'll do it!' Micky added. "We trust you, Max. And we wouldn't wanna get you in trouble or nothin'."

Maxine had finally agreed, albeit reluctantly. And the boys came to her … more often than she expected. And they almost always had the most cockamamie fish stories about how they came by their various injuries. She disinfected and bandaged scrapes and cuts and burns, extracted splinters, diagnosed colds and flus, wrapped mild sprains, and then there was Micky. Micky was a category unto himself and Maxine had become adept at treating minor chemical burns and all kinds of other woes in her dealings with the Mad Scientist Monkee. She was getting top grades in her classes and was convinced this additional practical experience was the key. Especially during the summer when the rest of her classmates losing their edge over the holidays. She'd yet to have to urge any of them immediately to a hospital and dreaded the day that may happen. She was pretty sure they made up those wild stories about getting roughed up by gangsters and bandits and pirates to cover up whatever it was they really got up to at night. They were rock 'n' rollers, after all!

But when Micky and Davy knocked frantically at her door and brought in a cold, wet, shivering Mike wrapped in a blanket, for once they didn't have some wild story to go with it. A car accident during the rainstorm ... perfectly logical. It seemed like one or more of the Monkees was getting bopped on the head for one reason or another. They kept telling her stories of being knocked unconscious and tied up and spirited away to one place or another by all kinds of “bad guys.” Really? They were the silliest boys she’d ever met. But she was so terribly fond of them. And was becoming very skilled at checking for symptoms of concussion. This was no exception.

"I was gonna take him to the hospital -- and I will if you say so," Micky babbled as Maxine used a small penlight to check the reactivity of Mike's pupils and then had him follow her finger with his eyes to check how he was tracking. "I know head injuries are nothing to joke about, but the tow truck is gonna nearly wipe us out and I just wanted to check first before we gotta hock anything ..."

"Hock?" Maxine gasped, looking away briefly before turning back to examine the lump on Mike's forehead. "Hock your instruments? No way!"

Micky shrugged. "We've done it before. We have a gig this weekend. I can borrow a kit from the Four Martians or the Jolly Green Giants. We'll get paid and I'll get my drums out of hock after that."

"Hold that thought," Maxine said. "Let me finish examining Mike first." She looked at the older boy. “Mike, do you know what day it is?”

“Aw, c’mon, Max. This is so dumb. I’m fine!”

“Michael Nesmith, what is today’s date?”

Mike stuck out his lower lip at her, but Maxine had learned some time ago that she could usually get the difficult Texan to cooperate if she used a sharp, motherly tone with him.

“It’s Tuesday. September sixth, nineteen sixty-six,” Mike huffed.

“How did you get into the accident?”

“It was rainin’.”

Micky rolled his eyes.

“What’s your full name, Mike?” Maxine had heard that Mike wasn’t his proper first name and it had become a subject of curiosity amongst some of the more ardent fans.

“None-of-your-damn-business Nesmith, Jr., ESQUIRE.”

Maxine smiled ruefully, sighed, and looked at Micky and Davy. “Pupils equal and reactive, knows where he is and what day is, aware of his surroundings, and —” she glared at Mike “— an ornery patient, as per usual! I’d say he’ll be fine, but take it easy for a couple of days. And get him out of these damp clothes into a warm bath or he’ll get pneumonia and then you really will be looking at a hospital stay!”

“Thank you, Maxine,” Micky said, nearly limp with relief. “You’re a real swell girl. We appreciate this so much.” He looked down at Mike as he stood up and helped the Texan to his feet. “You are being a total brat.”

“It’s fine.” Maxine smiled. “Good practice for my bedside manner when I’m dealing with other difficult patients.”

“Thanks, Max,” said Davy. “You’re a good friend. All right, come along, _Esquire_. Let’s get you back to the Pad. Peter probably thinks we’re all dead in a ditch now.”

“Hey, Micky,” Maxine said as Micky prepared to follow Mike and Davy out. She touched his sleeve and Micky looked at her questioningly.

“Yeah, Max?”

“How come you’ve never asked me on a date?”

“Huh?” Micky was taken aback.

“I see you more than any of the boys and we always laugh and have a good time, even when I’m patching you up after your latest experiment gone wrong. I was hoping this summer … but summer’s all but over now …”

Davy tried to usher Mike out the door, but he planted his feet stubbornly, glaring over at Micky and Maxine.

Micky looked Maxine. Really looked at her. She was a pretty girl. A cool blonde with light blue eyes and a nice smile. She was funny and so smart … and she wasn’t Mike. Mike glanced back at the grumpy, scowling, dishevelled Texan boy with his wet hair clinging to his forehead in strings and a goose egg swelling up on his forehead and damned if he was still wasn’t the most beautiful sight to Micky. Especially after fearing that he might have lost him today.

Micky smiled softly. “Aw, jeez, Maxine. I’m awfully flattered. To be honest, I never felt like I was in your league.”

“Oh, Micky, that’s not true, I —”

“But also, to be honest, I’m … kinda goin’ steady with someone right now.”

Maxine’s face fell. “Oh.”

Mike blinked, then bit back a smile. Davy watched the exchange and it all clicked for him. _Blimey, these two are really gaga for each other_.

He nudged Mike crossly. “All right, loverboy, show’s over,” he whispered. “Shift it.”

Mike growled, but let Davy take him out of the house and back to the car.

Micky shrugged. “I’m real sorry.”

“No, no.” Maxine was blushing as she shook her head. “It’s nothing to be sorry about. I just feel like a fool, is all … I didn’t know …”

“It’s okay, Max. It really is. I’m flattered. If … if things were different … y’know … I woulda taken you out, for sure.”

Maxine looked at him, trying to conceal her hurt and disappointment, but failing. “Do I know her?”

Micky shook his head. “Naw, I don’t think so. She’s … she works a lot. Can’t make it to a lot of shows, but we have a real good time when we’re together. We’re seeing how it goes.”

Maxine nodded and managed a small smile. “Well, she’s a lucky girl.”

Micky blushed. “Well, we’ll see about that. Anyway, I should split … we need to look after Mike. I, uh, if it’s too weird, I won’t come around next time I screw up an experiment … I’d understand.”

“Oh no, you don’t!” said Maxine. “I’m getting the grades of my life from all the work I do on you! I might go in for a speciality later if I can!”

Micky laughed softly. “All right. Well, I’m sure I’ll see you soon, then. At least at the gig this weekend? If Mike doesn’t croak from pneumonia first?”

“I’ll see you then. You get him home now.”

“Kay, thanks again, Max.”

Micky was about to head out the door when Maxine slapped her forehead and called out, “Wait a sec, Micky! Just a moment!”

Micky’s brow furrowed, but he waited while Maxine hurried out of the living room. He heard her rummaging around the in kitchen and she ran back in, holding out a small handful of bills. She picked up Micky’s hand and pressed the money into it.

“It’s twenty-five dollars. It’s … I don’t know how much a tow truck costs, but I hope this will help.”

Micky gaped. “Maxine … this is a lotta dough!”

Maxine shrugged. “Just because we can’t date doesn’t mean you guys still aren’t my favourite group. It’s some savings from my job. Pay me back when you can. I won’t have any of you hock your instruments! Who is going to play our favorite songs to dance to, otherwise, huh?”

“We will … I promise! Oh, wow, Max … thank you!” Micky was at a loss, but he leaned in and kissed Maxine quickly on the cheek.

Maxine smiled and blushed. Then it was Micky’s turn to stop short. “Oh, shoot — Maxine, can I ask one more favor?”

“Sure, Micky. What do you need?”

“Call Pete at the Pad and tell him we’re on our way. And tell him to start running a warm bath for Mike … and … um, remind him to put the plug in the drain …”

“… because that’s what keeps the water in,” Maxine finished gently, smiling “Oh, Peter!”

Micky shrugged. “That’s our Pete. Thanks again, sweetheart.”

* * *

“Took ya long enough,” Mike complained when Micky finally got into the driver’s seat. “I’m freezin’ my ass off here.”

Micky handed off the cash to Davy. “Hold on to this. Maxine is loaning us some bread to pay for the tow truck tomorrow.”

Davy’s eyes widened. “Blimey! What a girl!”

“Yeah, whatta girl,” Mike said, frowning. “What … did you have to auction off a date with her to get that?”

Micky turned the keys savagely in the ignition. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that because you’ve had a lousy day, Mike. That girl just gave you a free medical exam and loaned us cash to get the Monkeemobile out of the ditch so we can play our next gig.”

Mike exhaled hard through his nose. “Yeah … yeah, okay. I’m sorry. She’s pretty terrific.”

“She’s our friend,” Davy said. “Don’t talk rubbish about our friends, Mike. Not her fault she likes Micky. Sounds like something else you two have in common.”

Mike pouted and hunkered back down into his blanket cocoon. Davy chuckled. “C’mere, you big baby. I may be small but I’m told I run _hot_.” He wrapped an arm around Mike, who protested at first, but was too tired, and eventually gave into the embrace and rested his head on Davy’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My head-canon for my OC Maxine is that she becomes a nurse, but goes on to get her MD and is an outstanding and ground-breaking physician and surgeon by the early 1980s. All because she was essentially a field surgeon/doctor for the world’s most mishap-prone rock ‘n’ roll band back in the 1960s ;-)


	4. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Monkees make it home in one piece. Micky is trying to take care of Mike, and Davy and Peter have a talk. An unexpected fan shows up at the band's gig that weekend.

They finally arrived back at the Pad. Micky brought Mike inside before Davy drove the car back to Nyles’s place.

“Oh, Mike!” Peter exclaimed, seeing the bedraggled older boy come inside with Micky. “I was so worried! Are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine, Pete. It’s okay,” Mike reassured, then sneezed. “Just … caught a bit of a chill out in that damn rain.”

“Did you run a bath, Peter?”

“Uh-huh!” Peter said proudly. “I remembered the plug this time!”

“Good job, buddy,” Micky said with a smile. He turned to Mike. “Go and get undressed and get in the bath. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Mike scowled. “I know how to take a bath, Micky.”

Micky glared at him.

Mike sighed. “Okay, fine. Come check on me, but I promise I won’t drown.”

He shuffled off toward the bathroom and Micky went upstairs to get Mike’s pajamas so he’d have something dry and warm to change into after his bath. It felt strange being the one telling everyone what to do, but he was still operating in something of a crisis mode. He knew Mike was going to be okay, but he was still too rattled to accept it yet.

He went back downstairs and patted Peter on the shoulder as he passed. “You did real good, Pete. Thanks for your help. It was scary, but he’s going to be okay. I’m going to … go sit with him for a bit, okay?”

“It’s okay,” Peter said softly. “Um … does Davy know yet that …”

“… yeah,” Micky said. “Mike sorta blurted it out in the car. So it’s okay if you mention it to him. He was pretty shocked. But I hope he’ll be okay.”

“He will,” said Peter. “We’re all friends. We all accept each other as we are. That’s what real friends do.”

Micky smiled softly. “You’re such a groovy cat, Peter. We’re lucky to have you.”

* * *

Micky slowly opened the door to the bathroom and closed it behind him, setting Mike’s folded pajamas on the edge of the sink. Mike was sitting in the big clawfoot tub, submerged in steaming water up to his neck, and he turned to look at Micky. “Seriously, Mick … you don’t need to hover over me. Max said I’ll be fine. I just need to warm up a bit.”

“You’re still shivering,” Micky murmured.

“Well, I just got in here. Give it some time. And … don’t look at me.”

“Why?”

“I’m … naked.”

Micky laughed this time. “Mike! I was naked with you most of the day before the storm came in.”

“Well, that’s different,” Mike murmured, moving his hands to cover his groin. “When we’re makin’ love … it’s different than this.” He shivered again.

Micky shook his head, exasperated, and began to strip off his clothes.

Mike’s brow furrowed. “What … what’re you doin’, Mick?”

“I’m getting naked, too. And I’m going to warm you up.”

“Huh?”

Micky kicked off his jeans and underwear and nodded at Mike. “Scoot forward in the tub. I’m coming in.”

“Oh, c’mon, Micky, don’t be ridiculous, I —”

“I said _scoot_, cowboy!”

Mike grumbled, but he scooted. And then Micky carefully stepped into the tub behind him and slowly sat down, sliding his long legs on either side of Mike’s and resting his back against the end of the tub. “Lean back against me, babe. C’mon …”

Mike shifted and leaned back into Micky’s arms. He was still feeling very cross and put out over everything that had happened and he didn’t like being told what to do one little bit, but it was hard to stay mad when Micky was so attentive and concerned and sweet and … so Micky. Micky wrapped his arms around Mike and he suddenly felt surrounded by warmth. He relaxed under the water, in Micky’s embrace, resting his head back against Micky’s shoulder.

Micky pressed a tender kiss to Mike’s temple. “I got you, Mike,” he whispered. “Just let me take care of you, okay?”

“M’okay,” Mike mumbled, eyelids fluttering as he relaxed for the first time since everything had gone to hell earlier in the day.

“I need this, too,” Micky murmured softly, squeezing Mike a little bit tighter. “You scared me real bad, today, Mike. I … don’t know what I’d do if something really bad had happened to you.”

“I know, Mick. I’d feel the same way if you were the one who’d gotten into an accident. I just … Mick … do you ever feel like you got an angel and a devil or demon kinda bugger in you … and both sides are telling you different things and it gets awfully muddled up in your head sometimes … does that ever happen to you?”

Micky snorted softly. “You don’t know the half of it …” he murmured in wonder.

Mike was quiet for a few moments. “You … uh … meant what you said to Maxine? That wasn’t just to get out of makin’ a date with her?”

“I wanna go steady with you, Mike. I haven’t wanted to see anyone else since we started up and that hasn’t changed. If … you want that, too.”

Mike smiled softly, though Micky couldn’t see it. “I want that,” he said quietly. “I want that a lot. Um … does that mean I gotta pin you now or somethin’?”

Micky cracked up and poked Mike playfully in the ribs. “Oh, quiet, you. Besides, you don’t have a pin to give me anyway.”

“No, but I got a real nice new guitar pick. It looks like a pearl. I’ll give you that.”

“I don’t need a guitar pick, Mike. I don’t need anything … just you.”

* * *

Micky would find the guitar pick under his pillow the next morning anyway. He started it carrying it around in his pocket everywhere he went.

* * *

That same night, Davy came back from returning Nyles’s car and entered the Pad. He heard Micky and Mike’s voices coming from the bathroom and the sound of water sloshing in the tub. Davy shook his head … he was still trying to process the surprise confession he’d heard in the car.

He popped his head into his room, hoping to find Peter and was not disappointed. Peter was lying on his stomach, looking at pictures in a _National Geographic_ magazine. He looked up and smiled. “Hey, Davy. Glad you’re back. Everyone’s home safe.”

“Yeah, things got a little tense there for a bit. I hope Mike’s going to be okay. Would be a drag if we had to cancel our gig if he catches cold.”

“It’ll be what it’ll be,” said Peter blithely, shrugging, then sitting up. “Micky told me that you know now. About them being together.”

Davy let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, blimey, Peter. I’m ’avin’ a tough time gettin’ me head around that. They just don’t seem like the type, y’know?”

“The type?” asked Peter, confused.

Davy shrugged. “You know …” he mimed tip-toeing with a limp-wristed wave “… _mincing_ …”

“That’s a stereotype, Davy. And a bad one at that."

Davy shrugged again. “They come from somewhere, man. It’s not a lie. I just … I don’t understand. All these groovy chicks in our world and they want to shag each other?”

“I think they’re in love,” Peter said thoughtfully.

Davy blinked. “In love? How d’you reckon?”

“Just a feeling I have,” said Peter simply. “And wouldn’t that be groovy? Micky and Mike are the greatest.”

“Well, yeah, they are,” said Davy slowly.

“I love them. And I love you, too, Davy. I love being in the Monkees and living at the Pad with you guys.”

Davy blushed a little. “All right, mate, not you, too!”

“I’m not gay,” Peter said, matter-of-factly. “At least I don’t think I am. I don’t think Micky thought so, either, but sometimes you just meet the right person. But I’m not afraid to tell my friends I love them. Don’t you love them, too?”

“Well, yeah, ’course I do,” said Davy, blushing more. “I’d do anything for you guys. You know that.”

“So … maybe just be happy for them? Weren’t we saying that Mike seemed so much happier lately and we couldn’t figure out why? He smiles so much more now. I never realized how little he smiled before. Micky makes him so happy.”

Davy sat heavily on his bed, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “You’re kinda a deep cat when you wanna be, Tork,” he finally said. “It’s so simple, but it’s deep, man. I wanna be happy for ’em. I think I can be. Will just take some getting used to. And, like, what if it goes sour and they split up? What happens to the band? What happens to us living at the Pad?”

Peter shrugged. “No sense in worrying about stuff that hasn’t happened yet. Anything could happen. We could get drafted or get a girl pregnant and have to get married or get kidnapped again and taken to Timbuktu and forced to become goat farmers.”

“I’ll take the goats, please,” Davy muttered. He rubbed his face wearily, then nodded. “Yeah, all right. You make sense, Pete. They’re our friends and we love them. And if they wanna love each other in every way possible, then I guess more power to ’em.”

“That’s the spirit!” Peter said cheerfully. “We need more love in the world, not less, you dig?”

Davy looked at him ruefully. Sometimes Peter acted so dumb that Davy actually worried there was something wrong with him. But then, other times, Davy wondered if the blond was secretly a genius and was just having one over on them. But they’d never know.

“Thanks, Pete,” Davy murmured, getting off his bed and heading back into the living room. He heard Micky and Mike talking softly in the bathroom and he knocked very gently.

“Who iiiiiiis it?” Micky called out in a high, feminine voice.

“_Ocupado, señor,_” Mike chimed in. “We ain’t got no clothes on, neither. As a warning if you were thinking of opening the door.”

“I, uh, just had a chat with Peter,” Davy said through the door. “He knows where it’s at. I know you don’t need my approval … but you got it, all right? You’re my mates and we stick together. Okay? I want you two to be happy and if this makes you happy, then that’s … pretty gear, right?”

There was a long pause, then Mike’s voice, quiet and a just a little bit shaky. “That’s, uh … mighty decent of ya, Davy.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Micky spoke next. “I appreciate that.”

There was an awkward silence and then Davy gently tapped his fingers on the door. “Well, this has been sufficiently weird. I’m gonna watch some TV now. Cheers.”

* * *

Back inside the bathroom, Micky smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of Mike’s head, still holding him close. Mike had stopped shivering.

“Told ya it was going to be okay,” he whispered.

Mike found one of Micky’s hands underwater and twined their fingers together. “I wanted you to be right,” he said softly. “I’m real glad you were right, Micky.”

* * *

That weekend the Monkees played a triumphant gig at the Vincent Van Gogh-Gogh. The second set had been incredible. At least it felt that way to Mike. The band had really been cooking with gas and they’d packed the dance floor, which fed energy back to the Monkees that made their playing even better. The lump on Mike’s forehead had gone down after a few days and he was looking and feeling nearly normal by the time the weekend came around. They'd gotten the Monkeemobile back and with a new battery and a bit of elbow grease from Micky, it was running better than ever.

Davy had switched off with Micky and sat a few numbers behind the kit so Micky could play front-man. Which was something Mike always enjoyed, but even more so now. Watching Micky really get into a song, throwing his head back to hit a high note. He heard some girls scream and saw the usual group of doe-eyed chicks at the front, going gaga for them. But especially for Micky when he came out front and shook his hips and wiggled his little ass. It used to make Mike mad with jealousy back when he secretly longed for Micky, but had to watch him go off with one female admirer after another. But now he could feel proud about how his boy drew so much attention. How they wanted him. But he’d be going home with Mike. Sleeping in Mike’s bed. Offering up that pretty little ass for his enjoyment. He’d noticed a few guys discreetly checking Micky out at their gigs and even on the street. It was nothing he’d ever thought to look for before, but Micky turned heads wherever he went. But he modestly deflected the compliments when Mike tried to tell him what he was seeing.

“Nah, they just dig my shoes,” he’d say with a smirk. “Who wants to look at this old mug, anyway?”

Me, I do, he’d say over and over again. Waiting until they had privacy before kissing Micky’s face: his lips, his chin, his forehead, the space between his eyebrows, even light kisses brushed over his eyelids. Every part of that lovely face. He loved that face. He loved … Micky. But he wasn’t yet brave enough to say it out loud.

He was busy winding up his patch cords, his back to the house, still lost in thought when he heard a voice.

“That was far out, man. Y’all are somethin’ else.”

“Hey, thanks a lot, man,” Mike said absently, only half listening. Normally he was up for making nice with anyone who praised the Monkees, but his mind was elsewhere.

“Why don’t you turn around when someone’s talking to ya? Didn’t your momma bring you up better than that, Bobby?”

_Bobby_. And that Texan twang that Mike rarely heard anywhere these days except out of his own mouth. Swallowing around a sudden lump in his throat, Mike slowly turned around to acknowledge the speaker.

A young man stood before him. He had shaggy blond hair and a mustache and slightly red-rimmed blue eyes set into a freckled face. He sported a worn army field jacket, a tie-dyed T-shirt, dirty jeans and boots. And he leaned heavily on a cane. Mike stared at the man, speechless, until he smiled widely at Mike, and he felt faint for a moment.

“… Joe!”

“Josiah,” replied the young man. “It’s Josiah now. Joe died in the jungle. And good riddance to him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has been reading this series! I hope you are enjoying it still. One more installment to come!


End file.
